The One Hundred Faces of Yorkie P
by Derby
Summary: (( FINISHED!!! )) Yorkie P, a flower seller. Meets up with the newsies. Loves a certain newsies but doesn't get him (but perhaps another?) her life. R&R
1. Entry 1: A Beginning

A/N: Ok, I still have one day to go until I'm not suspended from ff.net anymore! (Well, by the time anyone sees this I won't.) Anywho, once again I'm starting a new fic, (eventually I'll get them all done.) and no, it's not a Mary-Sue, No, Yorkie doesn't get a lead guy (Or any guy at all actually), nor does everyone fall madly in love with her. Yay!  
  
Disclaimer: Yorkie is mine (No, not the dogs.) the plot isn't mine, and no matter how many times I strike outside of Disneyland, the newsies will never be mine.  
  
`*`*`*`*`  
  
The One Hundred Faces of Yorkie P  
  
"What I do to you, Netty? You want to runaway? Oy, don't you want to grow up and marry nice wealthy man? Be nice housewife? Have nice children?"  
  
That was the first thing my mother told me when I informed her I was running away to make my own life.  
  
"I give you everything! I give you motherly love, shelter, care, food and clothing? Now you run away?" She complained, trying to ladle me with an extra thick serving of guilt.  
  
"You named me Netty." I replied blandly.  
  
"Ey? Fine then. Be a child of demon and run away. A child who will not work, is no good. No good at all."  
  
She turned around and went back to tossing the creamy dough on the splintered table. My poor Italian mother with her grease shined hair back in a tight bun, face lined from years of hardship, she pretends not to care.  
  
I suppose I should introduce myself, it wouldn't be very 'lady-like' to leave you guessing would it?  
  
I am Netty J. Palacios, but I prefer to be called Yorkie. Why? Because of my love of New York.  
  
I live, or should I say used to live, in Little Italy in New York. Ah, Little Italy, where the laundry hangs drying from the windows, the neighbors are loud and the eternal smell of freshly baked bread lingers.  
  
My six brothers and sisters, and I care not to name them all, are all under the care of my dear, sweet mother in our tiny run down shack of a home. We Palacios are known for our independence, although I suspect that's not why my father ran away fifteen years ago.  
  
I am sixteen and on my own. I despise the tedious life I led in Little Italy; working in a lace factory with three hundred other girls, all equally ready to snitch to make an extra penny. I was certainly not cut out for lace making. My clumsy fingers don't work well with those tiny needles. More than once I've shrieked with pain as I stuck one of those hell-sent needles into my hand.  
  
So, as any think-first- ignore-the-consequences girl I ran away looking for a better life. And here I am now, living the high life! Sleeping on the streets, begging for food and selling dried flowers.  
  
This was not what I was expecting.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Every morning I wake up with the sun blaring like a soundless alarm into my eyes. I live here, there, most anywhere, usually alleys and fire escapes.  
  
I had been lucky enough to find a small job that required minimal talent. Mrs. Wick at Wick's Floristry had kindly let me sell her leftover flowers to make a few cents.  
  
True, flowers aren't the best industry to get involved in, but a few cheerful people will take pity on me and buy one. Others walk past in their gray world.  
  
Everyday I watch the newsboys (and occasional newsgirl) scream the headlines, playing and running. And despite their rough life, they manage to smile through the weeks worth of grime on their faces. What I wouldn't give to be as carefree as them.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
Oct 15, 1899  
  
A pirate attacked me this morning. It was just after five am, I was going about my usual business collecting the previous days flowers from Mrs. Wick when a blonde pirate attacked me with a twig.  
  
Yes, a twig. I admit it.  
  
I doubt, however, that the pirate meant to attack me. You see I was following him to try and sell him a flower and he stopped abruptly. The twig in his hand stabbed me in my stomach quite hard.  
  
He apologized profusely but gave me a strange look (I suspect he noticed I was stalking him) and offered to buy a flower to make up for the miniature murder. (I suppose it wasn't quite a murder, but it sounds quite dramatic doesn't it?)  
  
He inquired my name, I replied with Yorkie. He looked a bit surprised.  
  
I asked him if he had ever been a mutineer or blew a ship to smithereens with a cannon. He blinked with his one visible eye and replied, "No." Then left.  
  
I noticed the pirate (I had not quite caught his name, so I shall call him BlondeBeard in honor of Bluebeard.) kept glancing at me sideways when he was walking away. I suppose he doesn't know what a mutineer is, perhaps they don't teach English on pirate ships.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
Today has been quite the adventure. First I meet BlondeBeard and a few moments ago a bum ate a flower!  
  
I was selling flowers as usual, when a ragged, dirty, filthy bum with wild eyes and a dripping mouth hobbled up to me.  
  
"Ey, there goil. You'se wanna give me a flower?" He asked.  
  
"No. Would you like to give me some money?" I replied, skeptical he had any money.  
  
The bum surprised me by pulling out a penny and handing it to me. I plucked the driest, easiest to crumble flower from the bottom of the basket and presented it to him.  
  
He eyed me suspiciously, his eyes darting from the flower to my face. He sniffed the flower then ran a grimy finger along the stem, seemingly savoring it. My face turned a brilliant shade of crimson, what a scene.  
  
Finally, he stuffed the flower head into his mouth and walked away chewing contently.  
  
I must say I was surprised at first, but a new though struck me. Perhaps this bum was onto something. Surely flowers couldn't taste that bad, could they?  
  
And so, out of hunger, I reached into my basket and quickly took out a flower. Moving into an alley (As to be saved from disgrace) I nibbled at a petal.  
  
I choked and gagged, the perfumed dust gathering in my throat. It tasted much like a bar of Thorne's Wild rose Soap. I shan't be licking soap anytime soon.  
  
Despite hunger, I must remind myself not to eat flowers again. Bums are never right.  
  
  
  
---From the demented desk of Derby: Soooo. Review and let me know what you think! *Waves like an idiot* 


	2. Entry 2: Land, Ahoy!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, ff.net kind of messed up my stories though, because I posted 'The Sweet Life' but it posted as 'The 100 Faces of Yorkie P' instead. So the reviews are all over the place :P. Weird.  
  
Disclaimer: I won the unrecognizable. Lmao, I mean own.  
  
`*`*`*`*`  
  
October 16, 1899  
  
I think BlondeBeard is stalking me. I am afraid for my life. All right, I'm not exactly ready to keel over at this moment, but I'm quite confused.  
  
Yesterday, I thought Blondie (I've given him a pet name.) was annoyed or angry with me. But this morning he sold his newspapers on a corner near my selling spot, and kept looking over at me.  
  
Funny how things work out.  
  
With that, something cold suddenly banged into me from behind.  
  
'Watch out you street rat!' A nasal voice screeched. My hands immediately flew up to my ears to block the awful voice, it sounded as though a thousand crying rats were being run over by a carriage.  
  
I turned to look in the direction of the voice. A middle-aged woman wearing only the finest of fine clothing, all deep plum, was scowling. Her hat was tilted at an angry angle. A small white box was lying desolately at her feet, the contents spilled everywhere.  
  
She snapped her kid-gloved fingers and a short, stubby man rushed to pick up the box. The mid afternoon sun gleamed off his bald head. 'Like an over polished shoe.' I mused, while smiling to myself.  
  
The woman snarled at me, "What are you grinning about, you clumsy fool? Can't you see I'm Mrs. Pulitzer, wife to Pulitzer himself?" Her eyes narrowed like a cat's. She sighed exasperated at the man picking up her box and kicked him in the rear end. "Hurry it up!" Mrs. Pulitzer barked.  
  
The man turned crimson and stood up quickly, the box nearly squashed to death by his shaking hands.  
  
She turned back to me, "Did you hear me, child?"  
  
I was certainly not fond of her attitude, not at all! I swung my basket of flowers over my shoulder and remarked, "Well, la dee da! I'm Yorkie Palacio but I don't go around running into innocent orphans do I?" With that I turned on my heel and walked off.  
  
I heard Mrs. Pulitzer gasp in shock, and just to spite her I turned around and stuck my tongue out at her over my shoulder.  
  
The sour woman sputtered some orders to her feeble bald assistant and shook her fist with rage at me.  
  
I laughed and ran into an alley. I leaned against the brick wall trying to catch my breath. The look on her face was worth more than a roomful of chocolate cake to a hungry kid.  
  
The hollow sound of footsteps distracted me from my victory. BlondeBeard had joined me in the alley and was grinning.  
  
"Dat was really brave." He smirked, leaning against the wall next to me. I smiled at him. He smiled back.  
  
"I. uh. bettah get back ta sellin'..." He sighed, "Actually," He stopped at the end of the alley, "Whaddya say about meetin' me at Medda's tonight?"  
  
I nodded though I had no idea what a Medda was. He grinned and left.  
  
~*~*~  
  
And here I am. In front of Irving Hall where the famed Medda is. I discovered what a Medda was after inquiring a dirty looking man with a vast smile.  
  
"Ya can find her at Irvin' Hall." He had explained, pointing me in the right direction. "Ya can catch her eight o' clock show if ya hurry."  
  
I looked up the enormous picture of this Medda, she looked like the kind of person my mother had warned me about. Her eyes were heavily made up, and her smile was a mere smirk.  
  
I would have stayed to investigate the sign longer, but a throng of boys pushed past me into the Hall, not once saying 'Pardon me.'  
  
As soon as the door swung open, a cheery tune blasted out into the street. I peered inside and saw a brightly lit stage, each seat filled.  
  
BlondeBeard noticed me. Pulling me inside, he started to introduce me to almost the entire hall. He seemed to know everyone, I suppose pirates are quite popular amongst newsboys.  
  
He sat me down at a table with a few other boys, they gaped at me for a moment then turned back to the stage and sung along with the music.  
  
I noticed that Medda herself was on the stage, singing and dancing.  
  
A drink was plunked in front of me, the brown liquid nearly spilling over the edge. I picked it up and sniffed it, it smelled strange.  
  
BlondeBeard (Who introduced himself as Kid Blink) noticed this, and explained it was beer. My conscience started to whisper in the back of my head, arguing with my mind that I shouldn't drink it. Mother had told me to stay away from alcohol.  
  
I looked over my shoulder, half expecting mother to be there with a rolling pin, but she was nowhere in sight. I picked up the glass and took a deep drink. The liquid ran down my throat, a pleasant feeling.  
  
Another beer was set in front of me. In a short matter of time, that drink disappeared. Then another was gone. And another, and another.  
  
Suddenly, everything seemed very funny. I started to giggle, so loudly BlondeBeard looked at me with surprise. That made me laugh even louder.  
  
I leaped up from my chair and ran onto the stage, dancing like a fool. Medda looked offended at first, but soon started to laugh. The audience laughed with her.  
  
Egged on by their laughter, I started to sing. I felt dizzy with joy, and jumped forward, landing face first on the wooden floor. I giggled and slid off the stage. The floor greeted me with a warm hello on my bottom.  
  
Someone picked me up by the waist and swung me around. I laughed more and more, until finally, I started to feel sick. Someone else took a turn swinging me around. A tint of green shaded my face and in the middle of a swing in the air I.  
  
Well, I. threw up.  
  
A dizzy headache raged in my head, but I ignored it. I looked over at the door and saw a strange man with an eye patch and a black beard, waving a sword around ferociously. He grinned like a maniac at me, his golden teeth glittering.  
  
I pointed at the man who seemed to be multiplying right before me and shouted, "It's the captain! Run, BlondeBeard! He'll try to make you walk the plank!" then fainted.  
  
  
  
----- From Derby: Remember, kids, drinking is bad and I don't encourage it. Anyway, hope you all like this chappie ^_^ 


	3. Entry 3: Hello Spot

A/N: Believe it or not, I'm NOT dead! Yep, that's right I am still alive. Anymoo, I'm FINALLY updating (woo, I'm caps-happy today!) HURRAH! Thanks to the reviewers, you guys are TRES, TRES sooper.  
  
Disclaimer: Yorkie is mine (she is my slave, mush ha ha) and that's it.  
  
`*`*`*`*`*  
  
October 17, 1899  
  
I think there is a large mammal standing on my head.  
  
Oh never mind, it's just a headache from the night before.  
  
The night before. The words echoed through my mind. I opened my eyes and tried to figure out where I was. My vision was blurry as though someone had sat a wooly sheep onto my eyes.  
  
Suddenly, BlondeBeard was standing over me. I wondered for a brief moment if he had taken me aboard a ship and was going to whisk me away to some romantic island.  
  
"Yorkie?" I looked up. There was my mother, next to BlondeBeard calling my name.  
  
I screamed, nearly jumping out of whatever I was wearing (I cannot recall what it was) and promptly smacked my head against a bunk bed above me.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"You'se ok, kid?" It was BlondeBeard again. I looked past him in fear, searching for my mother. There was no trace of her anywhere.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you Mr. Beard." I replied, still wondering where my mother was and where I was for a matter of fact.  
  
Blondie looked confused, "Mistah. what?" He took a seat on the edge of my bunk, which I later discovered was in the Newsboy's Lodging House. Interesting, indeed.  
  
It seems Blondie took me here after I passed out last night. He said I had been mumbling about parrots and cannons all night. It was now late afternoon.  
  
After another quick glance around the room I asked, "Where is my mother? Has she come to take me back?"  
  
He looked at me with concern, "Ah, not dat I knows of. Unless ya mudda's hidin' under Itey's bunk. He keeps lotsa useful t'ings dere." He laughed, stopping when he noticed I still looked terribly confused.  
  
"I promise she ain't here." The blonde boy assured me, even ducking under the so-called Itey's bunk to prove it to me.  
  
After a few short hours of rest and a small meal of rice soup, my head finally began to clear and I felt well enough to get out of bed. Steeping warily onto the floor, I half listened as Blondie yammered on about unrecognizable things.  
  
He held my arm as I tumbled own the stairs, nearly falling onto my face. Directing me to the door, I successfully managed to get out of the Lodging House.  
  
As we walked down Main street, I couldn't help but notice many of the newsies I had seen before were not around. When I told Blink this he replied that they were in Brooklyn.  
  
"Brooklyn?"  
  
"Yeah. Brooklyn." Blink stated, a shadow of concern in his eyes. "Somethin' you'se don't like about Brooklyn?" the question wasn't demanding.  
  
"No. I just wondered why they would be there. Is there a pirate convention going on?"  
  
My companion looked ever so slightly irritated but answered anyway, "Not dat I knows of. I ain't a pirate after all." He added the last part with a softer tone as though he were talking to a very small child.  
  
Well, the news that he wasn't a pirate certainly cleared things up a bit. I no longer had to worry about him taking me on a ship. Although I shall miss my dream that he would fall madly in love with me, and I would be the only one to tame his wild pirate ways. Oh well, I don't care for water that much anyhow.  
  
He flicked out his pocket watch, "Almost three. Look, Yorkie, I gotta get ta Brooklyn. Maybe I'll see ya tomorrow." Before I could protest he was off towards the Brooklyn Bridge.  
  
I believe I have just been abandoned. That won't do. I've decided to go to Brooklyn as well, see what I can see. Although I must remain hidden I don't want to make Blink angry (I think the pirate charade has gotten a bit tiresome for him.)  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
I am now in a barrel. In Brooklyn. Surrounded by an enormous group of newsies. I somehow feel out of place.  
  
Someone named 'Spot' (How unusual) is yelling to the crowd about something. I strained to hear what he was saying as much as I could, but to no avail, the wood muffled his voice.  
  
Just as the sea of boys was cheering loudly, someone or something kicked my barrel a bit too hard. I tumbled out and down a small platform landing on from what I could tell, the one named 'Spot'.  
  
I was in a bit of a mess. I was directly on top of this Spot character, he was kicking and yelling to get off him which I would have liked to do very much so but couldn't as I was still trapped halfway into the barrel.  
  
Blink was staring at me with wide eyes.  
  
  
  
What have I done now?  
  
  
  
  
  
From Derby: Short chapter. But hey, wanna hear a weird ream I had last night? Of course you do! I was starring in a remake of the movie 'Annie' (it was a really, really, really, really, low budget version) and I was Annie (doi.). Anyway, I had this HUGE red afro wig on it so it was 'Afro Annie' and all this 70's music kept playing. I woke up laughing. LA DEE DAAA!!! R & r ^_^ 


	4. Entry 4: Woe is me

A/N: *Karate kicks, ends up falling on butt* Wacha! *Giggles* One update - served!  
  
Disclaimer: As always, I own Yorkie. The Disney owns the newsies. (I wonder if Disney would just lend me them for awhile?)  
  
`*`*`*`*`*`  
  
Oct. 17, 1899 (a continuation of sorts)  
  
I am in love. (And in much pain, but more about that later.)  
  
I, Yorkie, am madly in love with the Spot character I mentioned earlier (the one I fell on top of.) He is the epitome of beautiful!  
  
I suppose I should mention what happened after I fell onto my beloved. After I managed to get off him he sort of glared at me, much like an annoyed lion. The rather muscular boys surrounding me gave me the same look. But, Blink came to my rescue.  
  
He claimed I had an illness which caused me to imagine strange illusions, and that I mistakenly thought I was in some sort of war and Spot was the enemy. Spot seemed satisfied with this but none too pleased that I had made him seem like a fool in front of his 'people.'  
  
I could not read Blink's expression he gave me after he explained my 'illness' to Spot. I had no choice to go along with his story. I babbled on and on about this 'war' I was fighting.  
  
During an awkward moment of silence when everyone was gawking at me trying to figure out what to do I yelled, "EVERYONE DOWN! DON'T FIRE UNTIL YOU SEE THE WHITES OF THEIR EYES!"  
  
Blink put a hand to his forehead and looked slightly pained by my outburst.  
  
Spot finally dismissed us all, and I headed back to Manhattan with Blink and the rest of the Manhattan newsies. It was fairly silent the entire way there, I couldn't tell what Blink was thinking, if anything besides "Moronic girl."  
  
I took one last look at my dearest Spot as I stepped onto the Brooklyn Bridge, I could see him with a puzzled look on his face staring after me. Oh heavens, he makes me hot under the collar. I wonder what mother would think if she heard me thinking such things!  
  
I must return to Brooklyn soon, I do not want some unworthy girl snapping up my Spot.  
  
`*`*`*`*`*  
  
Spot, Spot, Spot. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I doubt I can count that high.  
  
It is nearly ten o'clock. The newsies are out selling their evening editions; it has occurred to me that I have not sold any flowers today. I have no money and nothing to eat.  
  
You never realize just how hungry you are until someone in the street stops and looks at you funny when your stomach growls audibly. I can see a basket of flowers just beckoning me, but no, after the first incident I promised myself flowers are not to be eaten again.  
  
I sat on a fire escape, a bit slippery from the previous rain. My head started to fall to the side, my eyes growing heavy with sleep. Finally, I managed to fall into a drowsy sleep, my head filled with images of Spot.  
  
I had the strangest sensation of falling in one of my dreams, and a large pain in my head.  
  
That's when I woke up and discovered I had slid all the way down the fire escape and onto the ground beneath it. My feet were stuck between two steps and my skirt was embarrassingly flipped up. People wandering the night streets stopped and laughed at me, and I had no idea!  
  
A rough looking man was bent over with laughter pointing at me. I stormed over and began to slap him with all the might I could muster. He walked away laughing still. The nerve.  
  
I envy men and their pants.  
  
  
  
---From Derby: Thank you reviewers, you are all fabulous. (Shout outs next chapter.) Hope you all enjoyed this chappie ^_____^ 


	5. Entry 5: The Beautiful One

A/N: Shout outs!  
  
Shortie: She's almost like a female Mush. o.O Skeery! Anywho, thank you mushly!  
  
Dragonfly: The power of pants. ^__^  
  
Cards: Eeee! Thank you!!! ^___^ *Watches story turn blue from huggles* Ooo.  
  
Falco: I'll start that one fic soon! You and Spot will be together, I promise! ^___^ Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: See other chapters.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
October 18, 1899  
  
  
  
I woke this morning with my head on someone's shoulder. This someone's head was also resting on mine.  
  
I nearly screamed with fright, I thought it might have been that rude man from last night. But it wasn't (Hurrah!), it was Blink.  
  
I could not help but think how adorable and innocent he looked asleep. His blonde hair was tousled and he was smiling very slightly. I dared not wake him but gently tried to get up, I had flowers to sell.  
  
In the process of trying to remove myself from under his arms I managed to get my foot caught in his jacket, which was lying next to him. Unfortunately, I did not notice this until I tried to walk down the stairs and ended up tumbling down them once more. (I am beginning to loathe fire escapes.)  
  
Blink woke with a start as he had been sitting on the jacket. He stared blankly at me for a moment. I quickly sat on a step and laughed nervously, trying to cover up my blunder. He laughed and stretched with a yawn.  
  
"Hope you didn't mind dat I was dere. I mean..." He explained but I interrupted with a smile, "Of course not, though I did have a sneaking suspicion at first that you may have been one of those pants wearing pigs."  
  
He cocked his head in confusion but shrugged then laughed. His laugh was infectious. I smiled and my cheeks began to glow a dazzling red, but the thought of Spot flickered in my mind and I hurried off to Wick's Floristry.  
  
As I gathered my near wilted daisies I began to feel terribly guilty for leaving Blink on the fire escape like that.  
  
  
  
The day pressed on as usual, though I did not see Blink until later that evening.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Numerous times throughout the day I though of Spot and what he thought of me.  
  
  
  
Just before six o'clock Blink appeared, he smiled and plucked a flower from the basket and handed it to me, bowing low.  
  
Imitating royalty, I bowed back and tucked the flower behind my ear. Blink took my hand and we walked to Tibby's under the quickly darkening sky.  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
The Beautiful One is sitting right beside me. Very closely, indeed.  
  
Spot, look at me! Turn your handsome head this way! I love you!  
  
Almost as if he had heard my thoughts he turned to me and asked, "So, did ya win your war?"  
  
I had no clue what he was talking about; I had completely forgotten yesterday's events. I stared at him and replied, "Um. pardon?"  
  
There was a loud round of laughter around me, and for the first time I noticed there were many newsies sitting at the table with Spot and I. They were snickering among themselves and eyeing me.  
  
Spot put an arm around my shoulders, "Dat's ok. I like me goils a little crazy." He laughed. The others laughed. I was not amused, but the sheer delight of having Spot's arm in my vicinity, no, AROUND me was over whelming and I near fainted.  
  
  
  
I noticed Blink sitting across from me, staring wide-eyed at Spot's arm around me. He made a small almost inaudible sound and turned to one of his friends sitting beside him.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
Sigh, The Beautiful One has touched me. I'm deliriously happy. Drunk on love. You must believe me; being drunk on love is better than being drunk on alcohol and making a fool of yourself.  
  
As the newsies slowly exited Tibby's, Blink walked silently beside me, hands in pockets.  
  
"So, whaddya t'ink of Spot?" He asked after a moment of silent, as though he had been trying to think of something to say.  
  
I sighed and replied, "Oh I love him!"  
  
  
  
Blink's jaw clenched and he left without saying anything more.  
  
  
  
What has gotten into that boy?  
  
  
  
------From Derby: Aww, poor Blink. I'll love you Blink!!! Lum dee dum, stay tuned folks. 


	6. Entry 6: Oh dear

A/N: Hellooooo! It's me, Derby the annoying gamine type thingy! (Note: Feel free to roll your eyes and ignore this part) Enjoy! ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: Yorkie is mine, the scary minor characters are mine, and the Newsies are Disney's.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
October 18, 1899 (Later That Evening)  
  
  
  
Hmmm.. It's nearly midnight and I can't get Blink off my mind. I don't understand why my comment about Spot would upset him.  
  
I decided a few moments later to go to the Lodging House and see if Blink was still awake, surely they would be playing cards or something like that. I slipped through the shadows towards the house.  
  
It was dark inside the Lodging House but I needed to talk to Blink. I slid in through the window and hovered around Blink's bunk for while.  
  
Well, I thought it was my little pirate's bunk. It wasn't. I suppose my obnoxiously loud breathing (I was trying to subtly wake him up) had woken up a curly haired boy. He simply gaped at me then began screaming.  
  
I ran into the bathroom and hide in the bathtub.  
  
It seemed a few of the other boys had woken up and were trying to comfort the curly boy.  
  
"Dere was giant rat standin' ova me!" The boy was near hysterics.  
  
A giant rat. Of all the things I've been called that was my least favorite.  
  
I suddenly heard Blink's voice, "Dere ain't no rat. You was dreaming. Go back ta sleep."  
  
"But it was breathin' on me!" The boy I had frightened complained.  
  
"Go ta sleep." Came several voices. The noise faded and it was quiet once more.  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
October 19, 1899  
  
  
  
I'm in a bathtub?  
  
  
  
Oh yes, I remember now. I am the giant rat girl who terrorizes young boys in the middle of the night by breathing on them.  
  
  
  
It seems I had fallen asleep in the bathtub when I hid in the bathroom last night. My head is resting on the faucet; it certainly isn't as comfortable as Blink's shoulder. I do miss him.  
  
Speaking of Blink, he is standing in front of me with nothing on.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh my.  
  
  
  
  
  
He gasped and grabbed a curtain in front of him. I jumped up quite quickly and tried to run for it, but Blink grabbed my arm with a free hand, "Yorkie? Why are you'se here.. In da bathtub?" he asked.  
  
  
  
I've discovered I'm not one of those quick-witted, snap tongued girls so I replied, "I needed a bath."  
  
  
  
My companion raised an eyebrow; "You always take a bath with your clothes on?"  
  
I stared pointedly at him and said, "Well, obviously you don't." and ran out of the room. I quite regret that now, I sounded so angry with him. I hope he does not think I am completely insane yet.  
  
  
  
Blink thinks I am insane, Spot thinks I am insane, and I am surely doomed to a life of sewers and a rat kingdom.  
  
  
  
------- From Derby: Next chapter, a confrontation (of sorts) with Spot! Dun dun dun! 


	7. Entry 7: An angry goodbye, a fond hello

A/N: Two words: writer's block.  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
November 2, 1899  
  
  
  
It's been quite some time since I last wrote here. Reason be that there has been nothing worth wasting ink and paper on. After the bathtub incident Blink avoided me altogether. I suppose he thinks I'm angry with him; I did sound like it that night.  
  
Over the last few days I've been stuck in a routine of utter dullness. Wake up, go to the flower shop, sell flowers, casually pass Blink's selling spot in Central park, receive a cold look from him, sigh, go back to the fire escape I call home, eat, and sleep. It's quite discouraging when your life can be summed up in a few empty sentences.  
  
I must do something to get out of this rut. I may go insane. (Or am I already insane? I cannot remember.)  
  
~*~*~  
  
November 3, 1899  
  
  
  
To Brooklyn I go. Spot I must see. well, that could have been the beginning of an amusing song, but I'm afraid I can't rhyme well.  
  
It took only moments to find Spot; he was sitting like a king on a barrel in a busy alley, watching his 'kingdom' of newsies sell their papers. His gaze merely flickered to me when I sat on next to him. He yawned and asked, "Who're you? Whattya want?"  
  
If it was anyone except Spot, I wouldn't have been offended, anyone but Spot. I replied, "Yorkie. We met when I ah. fell on you. Remember?"  
  
"No, I don't remember. Dis is Brooklyn territory, so ya better leave." He did not even look at me when he spoke, as though I was not worth even a moment of his time.  
  
I was irate. I glared at him; he cast his bored gaze back at me while I angrily jumped off the barrel. I was able to get my foot caught in the barrel top and as usual, tumbled down onto the ground. I brushed my self off and trying to look as calm as I could I stalked off.  
  
I could hear Spot and his gang laughing like crows at me.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Well, I believe the Spot chapter in my life has been finished with a tremendous bang. I have decided that egotistical leaders of large cities are not right for me. It's the pants, I know it is. The pants must cut off their blood flow and make their ego swell to unknown proportions.  
  
  
  
It is about four o'clock. I'm sitting outside the ancient library, reading one of the many books I've stolen from through the window. This one is called, "Profit From Textiles" How interesting, did you know the average textile is three feet in width?  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Yorkie?" Oh for God's good gracious sake. It's Blink.  
  
I seemed to have fallen asleep against the cold brick wall of the library, spit from sleep running like a river down the front of my dress. Lovely.  
  
I tried to pretend I could not hear Blink, and was still asleep. He finally poked me harshly with a stick. The faint memory of my first meeting with the pirate flashed back in my mind. I miss those days dearly.  
  
  
  
Finally, I snapped my eyes open, "Yes?" I asked. He sat next to me, looking slightly uncomfortable.  
  
"Uh, it's going to start snowing soon." He said awkwardly, vaguely mentioning that December was approaching.  
  
"Yes. I know, Blink." I answered, looking at the sky. I hoped I did not sound too harsh. He didn't seem to notice if I had.  
  
"Look, I just wanna say I'm sorry." Blink threw the words out. He looked at me, I looked at him.  
  
  
  
He read my look, which implied, 'for what?'  
  
He sighed softly. Removing his cap and running a hand through his hair he replied, "I don't know. Whatever you'se made at me for. I missed you."  
  
I stared at him, more like gaped. He thought I was angry with him? For what? I explained that I was not angry, only that I didn't understand his reaction to when I had said I loved Spot. (I noticed he grimaced slightly when I said Spot.) I concluded with today's encounter with Brooklyn leader himself.  
  
  
  
"I told ya Spot was trouble." Blink mumbled, "Let's just say sorry, ok?" he said, half asking. I agreed, and he held out his hand for me. We walked together to Tibby's; he mentioned nothing else of our previous discussion.  
  
As we were walking through the open market, him making me laugh nearly every second with his never ending smile, a hand grabbed my arm. I looked up at the owner of the hand; it was a woman with black hair pulled back into a bun and a slight scowl on her face.  
  
  
  
"Netty?" the woman inquired.  
  
It was my mother.  
  
  
  
  
  
--- Derby: Wow, what a cheesy chapter. Lol. Anywho, next chappie coming soon. 


	8. Entry 8: A final farewell? I think not

A/N: Wow. this fic is done! Last chappie : ( Oh well, there will be a sequel ^_^ Thanks reviewers, I appreciate it mushly!  
  
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
November 3, 1899 (Yet another continuation)  
  
  
  
My mouth must have been scraping the ground, there was my mother. Her eyes flashed at me, her grip tightened on my arm. The pain!  
  
I tried to sputter some sort of coherent sentence but couldn't. Blink remained silent, he seemed awfully confused. I suppose he thinks I am an orphan, well, until now.  
  
My mother glared at Blink behind me, I knew what she was thinking.  
  
"You run away, leave me! Now I find you again, and you with, with, with, this street rat! You bring shame! Shame on you! SHAME!" Mother spat at me, her head shaking with rage. Passer byers chuckled at this amusing show of reprimand.  
  
Neither Blink nor I said anything. My mother continued with her rampage, she pulled me rather viciously I thought, away from Blink scowling deeply. I looked at him; he looked as though he wanted to say something as well.  
  
"It's time to go, Netty. No more of this! We go home now!" Mother slapped my arm to regain my attention. With a final grunt of disapproval, mother began dragging me away from Blink and towards my old home.  
  
I last saw Blink standing still in the crowd, his eyes wide. He reached out one hand and yelled, "Yorkie!"  
  
Warm, salty tears began to flow freely down my cheeks. I struggled to free myself from my captor. My hand slipped from her grip and I ran.  
  
Three feet later my mother had caught my hand again and dragged me to a bench. Grabbing me hands, she held them out palms down, and struck them with a carrot from her small sack of vegetables.  
  
Demeaned by a carrot.  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
Little Anthony has brought me a bowl of thin, watery soup filled with unrecognizable gray lumps. Most likely rat heads or something of the sort. I miss the thick soup at Tibby's.  
  
  
  
I am now back to where I had started, home in Little Italy. It cannot be real, can it? No, no. I'm back on the fire escape; Blink is going to appear in a short while, his silly grin on his face. I'll be in Brooklyn, the Lodging House, anywhere, I can't be here!  
  
I waited a moment then realized it was real. I was in the tiny room I shared with my four sisters. The smell of freshly baked bread danced around the windowsill, the glass broken. Lines of laundry flapped in the small breeze. I am home.  
  
~*~*~  
  
  
  
HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL LLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
Good gracious Lord, please save me now! Please Lord, I promise now not to ever steal, lie, or even breathe if you just save me now!  
  
Mother has announced I am to be sent away like a useless letter to my uncle Edward-Bildner in Britain. I will be taken there by train and ferry.  
  
I suppose I should explain. Uncle Edward is a very wealthy man living in the grand old country of Britain, where he is involved in some sort of financial business. He agreed to pay for the trip just to spite mother. (Uncle Edward and mother do not get along; it is a long story of hatred starting from childhood.) Why he agreed to take me in? I haven't a clue.  
  
I shall be leaving tomorrow. There is no time for goodbyes.  
  
I promise myself now, I will make Uncle Edward regret taking me in, and mother too! I cannot possibly leave New York behind; there is not a chance I am going to stay in Britain.  
  
  
  
Good old England is going to wish they had never seen the one hundred faces of Yorkie P.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
---Derby: AHHH!!! Wow, I finished a fic! Holy Kit Kats! I can't possibly leave this fic here, so yeah; I'm going to make a sequel. Wow, I'm so proud of myself. 


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